When Dragon Balls Descend Upon Marvel

"Tony Stark—this year's only contestant holding two Dragon Balls. Known to the world as Iron Man: superhero, playboy, genius inventor, and billionaire. He's also the only participant to return for a second tournament. Perhaps this time he'll claim the championship he narrowly missed last year."

"After all, in the last tournament, Tony Stark fell just short of the title, finishing as runner-up."

The spotlights swept across the stands to find Tony, armored in his Iron Man suit, faceplate open, Pepper Potts and Happy Hogan seated beside him.

Thor raised an eyebrow. So Stark had already competed once before? Admirable persistence—but futile. With Thor himself in the running this year, Tony's hopes of winning were laughable.

Still, Thor respected the man's strange luck. Counting both tournaments, Stark had collected at least three Dragon Balls, yet never reached the point of making a wish. Fortune or cruelty—it was hard to say.

Jane Foster whispered curiously:

"I can't imagine what more a man like him could possibly wish for."

Darcy tilted her head.

"Maybe… to bring back his parents? That would make sense."

Across the arena, only T'Challa and Ivan Vanko regarded Tony seriously. The rest dismissed him as a man in a suit, nothing more. Even Wenwu thought so. Yet all recognized one tactical truth: defeating Stark meant doing it twice. Whoever faced him first would need to strip both tickets.

The hologram shifted.

"Thor Odinson—Prince of Asgard, son of Odin All-Father, the God of Thunder himself. The very figure from Midgard's Norse myths, wielding power beyond imagination."

The arena erupted. Spectators leapt to their feet, craning their necks toward Thor as the spotlight bathed him in golden light. Thor rose proudly, waving with a warrior's confidence. Yet inside, he felt a pang of regret. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif could not be here to cheer him. Hopefully Heimdall was watching and would tell all of Asgard of his glory.

Among the Eternals, Kingo smirked.

"Do you think Thor even remembers us?"

Ikaris leaned toward Thena.

"Thena… it seems Thor will be your true opponent."

Thena's lips curved into a rare smile.

"Then I'll show him what a real warrior is."

Meanwhile Tony muttered, exasperated:

"First a sorcerer, now a literal Norse god. Wonderful."

He quickly activated his second-generation power scanner, locking onto Thor. A warning instantly blared from J.A.R.V.I.S.:

"Sir, power level exceeds 500. Module damaged."

All around, others tried the same—Vanko, Selene, Marcus, Shuri, even Xu Xialing. Each scanner either exploded or short-circuited.

Shuri gaped at the fragments in her hand.

"Brother… you're in trouble. His power's off the charts!"

Even Wenwu, who had worn a mask of calm until now, stiffened. The god of thunder's power was undeniable. His daughter's ruined scanner proved it. This would be no ordinary fight.

Eddie Brock smirked as he continued. Selling off his Dragon Ball had been the smartest decision of his life. Gods themselves were showing up for this madness.

The screen shifted once more.

"Xu Wenwu—leader of the Ten Rings, a warrior who has lived for over a thousand years. Father of Xu Shang-Chi and Xu Xialing, both contestants in the last tournament. He brings with him centuries of battle experience and mastery of the rings."

Spotlights locked onto Wenwu. By his side sat Shang-Chi, Xialing, and his chosen entourage.

The crowd murmured. A man who had lived a millennium? Surely such longevity implied frightening power. Yet when Eddie noted Wenwu's children, many who had witnessed last year's tournament scoffed. Shang-Chi and Xialing's performances had been underwhelming. Perhaps their father was just another middling superhuman, dangerous among mortals but insignificant here.

Still, some—Thor, Mordo, Thena, even T'Challa—watched him closely. A thousand years of survival was no accident. Only immortals without strength lived long without power, and Wenwu did not look weak.

Mordo in particular was intrigued.

What sustains such a lifespan? Magic? Artifacts? Black arts? Even Kamar-Taj's greatest cannot cheat time so long without cost…

Yet the vampires and werewolves, veterans of the last tournament, smirked. They remembered how his children had faltered. Wenwu, to them, was unlikely to prove any different.

······

(End of Chapter)

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